Stay With Me
by tami3
Summary: Soubi hated Seimei from the first moment he laid eyes of him. Before the pretty spells, eloquent words, and enigmatic goals, Seimei was kind of a jerk, after all. Takes place several years before current story. RR


Stay With Me

"So there you have it, Soubi. This is your Sacrifice." Ritsu said, pushing the door open with one hand and staying well to the side so Soubi could go in.

Soubi stared at him.

That was it? This was it? All the ugly imperfections whipped onto his body, all the fallacies about strength sown into his head, all these years of making him chant that misery was invincibility?

This was it?

This was all he was going to get from Ritsu-sensei at the only moment that mattered? On top of it only "mattering" because Ritsu had drilled the idea into him endlessly?

When he had made Soubi crazy like he was, obsess over spells for the sake of a stranger?

When Soubi had already become fixated on bizarre powers he'd share with someone someday (today), something that normal people smartly had not an ounce of concern for?

This was it?

Ritsu raised an eyebrow at Soubi's stalling. Or maybe it was at the look on Soubi's face. Soubi didn't often make meaningful expressions at his teacher anymore. Too trite, what with all the torture and psychobabble.

"What's wrong with you? Go in. He's waiting."

Soubi recovered and swept past. He gave the older man a smile that could have been brimming with enigmatic amusement, simpering gratitude, or a hope he'd be allowed to jump his new partner's bones as soon as he got past the threshold.

No one was supposed to know.

Soubi had worn his hair loose today, shaken loose just past his shoulders like streamers of clouds tinted with sleek, golden sun. In this special room they reserved for team introductions, there were bars in the windows that cut negative shapes, static lines of shadows, across his body.

Soubi was sliced up like a criminal, all pieces of light and a gentle close-eyed smile on the head that seemed to be suspended on the air, as if impaled on a pike. Ethereal. Saintly. Holy but desecrated. The body of your fighter scattered, dismembered, withstanding death and maintaining form for the Sacrifice. A sacrifice for the new Sacrifice.

In this pivotal moment, Soubi looked hauntingly beautiful to whoever sat in the bench opposite to the door.

Of course he did. If they didn't keep you looking and feeling poignantly poetic all the time, you'd figure out this magic spell business was a crock, stop raving at other pairs of people as if you were on drugs, and quit posing like a piece of art at random moments that somehow added up to battles in alternate universes.

So Soubi's gaze was full of meaning as he first looked upon his fighter. He would be below the windowsill, out of the light and blue with darkness. Enthroned on the bench. Supposedly empowered, but imprisoned from the barred window bracing his shoulders like gated wings. The message was clear. Rescue me. Set me free, bring me into the light, I can fly if you will take me.

It's supposed to be something like that, but all Soubi could think was: He looks stupid.

He did. He was a scrawny, dark haired boy with pert ears and the same big swishy tail of those fancy Persian cats that were more prim, temperamental, and haughty than regular cats, which were already pretty stuck up. He'd completely spoiled the intended effect of the room, having drawn his legs up onto the bench, hugging himself at the knees, trying hard to hold in the shivering that he almost did. His stony stiffness made it look as if it were a slight wobble to the bench making him shake instead. His feet were bare, but his shoes were meticulously lined up underneath the seat, the laces perfect, symmetrical bows.

His expression was not benign, not subtle, but a frown so extreme that was putting stress lines in between his eyebrows. He was ramrod stiff. Soubi supposed his jaw was firmly clamped, but it was hard to tell with the boy's face half hidden by his kneecaps.

And he stared. He had a hard stare.

Soubi took a breath and began anyways:

"_I lack this power to purify,_

_Sanctify, nor suffice._

_Sacrifice._

_For I will assuage your cares,_

_Triumph as your Fighter."_

More staring. Soubi found it irritating.

Soubi continued onto the important part:

"_Beloved, will you bless me with your fears?_

_We are tremors that hold the heart hostage. _

_We are Belove-"_

"No."

Shock flooded Soubi's face, but he composed himself as quickly as before and reset his default seraphic face.

The boy's face was contorted with a kind of indignant disgust.

"Don't call me 'Beloved'. I didn't say you could. My name is Seimei Aoyagi. I'm your Sacrifice."

Soubi took another breath that had nothing to do with casting a spell. Sacrifices were supposed to give the orders. Yes. This was okay. He'd only assumed, because the spell was a necessary first step, but it was okay. It would get done.

"All right, Seimei. I'm Soubi Agatsuma, your Fighter. I'm very happy to meet you."

A small smile crept around Seimei's mouth. "Why did you leave out the honorific, Agatsuma-san?"

Soubi didn't say anything so Seimei spoke for him.

"You can call me 'kun', if you like. With the surname. I'll be using 'Agatsuma-san'. Or should it be sempai? You're older, after all."

Soubi wondered when his breaths would cross over into sighs. Soubi didn't trust himself to say anything else in anticipation of Seimei's objections, so he merely stepped forward a little and extended a friendly hand.

Seimei glared at it with narrow eyes like he was being offered a dead, stinky fish.

A full half-minute of being silent and frozen elapsed before Soubi finally got impatient enough to just grab Seimei's hand. It was right there on his knee, after all.

Soubi felt only a brush of cool dryness before the hand whipped off the knee, almost smacking Soubi on his nose. Seimei gave his spread fingers a fleeting, intense look of horror. Then he seemed to think better of himself and where he was. He straightened himself and laid the hand very, very stiffly beside himself on the bench.

With a pleasant tone and demeanor that was incredibly forced, Seimei spoke.

"Agatsuma-san, I'm also glad I finally got to meet you. I hear that you're very strong."

But Soubi was done letting Seimei get away with rudeness.

"I wasn't aware that you were a hypochondriac, Aoyagi-kun." He said smoothly, keeping himself unperturbed on the outside. He nonchalantly pushed hair off his shoulder and tucked it behind his ear. "Or perhaps homophobic? That might be problematic in the future. It would be advisable for you to work past it."

Seimei looked very nonplussed. When he continued be so, Soubi piped up again.

"I'm sorry. From your physical appearance I would guess you are…in junior high school? Perhaps you don't know the meaning of those terms."

"I know what they mean!" Seimei snapped. Soubi could easily make out the dark hairs on Seimei's bushy tail prickling, highlighted against the wall. That was what he'd liked about having light hair, when he had had his ears. It had been harder to spot when he was disturbed. And with Ritsu-sensei around, Soubi had to remain as unruffled as possible at all times.

"You're clever for your age, then. And handsome, too. How lucky."

"Don't say things like that! Do you have any idea how disgusting that sounds?" Seimei literally hissed the words.

Seimei resisted the urge to raise his eyebrow, even coolly, not wanting to mimic Ritsu-sensei.

"Would you rather not be beautiful in this world? I understand. This is a world where being born beautiful means you regret being soiled all the more. You can't avoid it, though. Being pure. Getting stained."

"Pervert!" Seimei spat. "Freak! Ritsu-san said you'd understand me. But how could you be my Fighter? You're just like everyone else!"

"Everyone else? How?"

"Disgusting! Dirty! Perverted and can't keep your hands to yourself! Like everyone else!" Seimei was almost shouting by now.

How could he be Soubi's Sacrifice was the real question. He was neurotic. He had a short fuse and no manners. And he acted like he didn't know how to play word games at all. He was weird.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. Because I love you."

Seimei clamped his hands on the top of his head, covering cat and normal ones alike with his palms and the sides of his arms.

"Don't say that!" He wailed.

"I love you." Soubi said quietly.

"Stop!"

"I love you." He repeated with a mild expression. If Seimei had any sense he'd just say it back.

Seimei opened his mouth and Soubi knew he was going to scream—he didn't care, that would bring Ritsu running and Soubi would either get to see his unflappable teacher get flustered for picking up this crazy kid, or at least an explanation on why of all teams Soubi was the one who had to get the most broken Sacrifice that ever existed.

But Seimei never did scream. Instead, he said:

"Where's the bathroom?"

"What?" Soubi answered, showing off his scintillating wit.

"Where's the bathroom."

Well, there _was_ a bathroom. It was just a normal building, after all. Ritsu and that bushy-headed woman who made nasty faces like a mean kindergarten girl at Soubi had modified it so that it looked a little like a shrine. But Soubi had never heard of a Sacrifice needing to excuse himself for the facilities in the middle of the bonding ceremony. Or leaving the room until it was done, for that matter.

But he'd never heard of a Sacrifice peeing himself at one either, and he'd rather not be the cause of the first time.

"Out in the hall a few doors down."

"Thanks."

Seimei pulled out his shoes from underneath the bench. Soubi watched as Seimei took out socks, one from each pocket, slid them on and folded each over once onto his ankles, carefully undid the shoe's laces, yanked them loose, replaced his feet, and redid the bows, taking the time to adjust them to the perfect shape and length.

He was pretty good about holding it in, Soubi observed.

When he was done, Seimei picked up his backpack on the floor and stuck each arm through a strap. He went out without another look at Soubi. He was very careful to shut the door behind him.

He took his bag? Oh, so he was really leaving. Or trying to leave. Good alibi, then. Soubi didn't stop Seimei because he knew he'd have to come back eventually. It was just more fun to imagine Ritsu having to drag the boy back and Seimei screeching about the touching all the way. Nutters like that deserved each other and Soubi figured he was entitled to a bit of a show after all his suffering.

So Soubi sat down on the bench to wait for Ritsu to intercept Seimei and haul him back. On second thought he got up and reopened the door before sitting back down again. He wanted to hear the commotion coming.

A few minutes passed. Soubi enjoyed himself envisioning Ritsu appearing in the doorway, normally smooth hair mussed as he huffed and struggled to pull Seimei into the room. Soubi was quite entertained wondering what Ritsu would think, Soubi sitting in the chair and Seimei having to stand in front in him. The positions reversed. Ritsu was a stickler for the rules, so Soubi hoped it would really, really annoy him.

Sure enough, Ritsu's familiar bespectacled face peeked from around the edge of the doorframe.

"Why" he asked pointedly "is this door open? And why are you alone in this room, Soubi-kun?"

Soubi gave him another one of his blank looks. Sincere, this time.

"Where's Seimei?" he asked Ritsu dumbly.

"I do not know. Why don't you?" Ritsu seemed more dispassionately inquisitive than troubled.

Soubi got up.

"Excuse me, sensei."

"Of course."

Ritsy got out of the way and let Soubi zoom out the door and into the bathroom a few rooms over. He tilted his head at the escaping Fighter, thoughtfully pushing his glasses further up on his nose, but then turned around and left.

Seimei was sitting with his back to one of the stalls and crying.

Soubi felt very pitiful indeed as he watched him sob. This was his Sacrifice? God, he was going to be cursed for life.

"I didn't mean to tease you, Aoyagi-kun. Because I really do lov--" He started, a bit hurriedly, trying to salvage something from this fiasco.

"Shut up!" Seimei shouted at him and went on crying.

Soubi stayed quiet, looking at the shining tears on Seimei's cheeks. He was starting to feel a little sympathetic for Seimei. Not all of the teams had both people who were like him, found early on by Ritsu-sensei or his colleagues and literally broken in for this kind of life. All of this must have seemed rather strange to a normal child, not matter what cram session Ritsu had for miraculously found Fighters or Sacrifices that matched one of the spares in his group.

It was true that even the outsiders that were brought in should instinctively understand that this was what filled the void they'd been feeling all their lives. Also, as far as Soubi knew, they had all been entranced by their partners upon introduction.

But Seimei wouldn't help being the most incompetent Sacrifice that ever existed if he was, so Soubi decided to cut him some slack.

"Okay, just stop." Soubi decided to drop the mystic act and just speak plainly for now until Seimei got it himself later on. Ritsu obviously had half-assed prepping the spooked Sacrifice. "I really didn't mean anything, okay Aoyagi-kun? So I'm sorry. I don't know if Ritsu's told you anything but that's just the way we do things. Why are you so freaked out anyways? If you agreed to go with him and he told you something like the truth you should have known that we have to act a little…weird. It's nothing to cry about."

Seimei sniffled mutinously at this opinion.

Giving Soubi a suspicious scowl as he defensively wrapped his tail closer around his body, he growled: "How's anyone supposed to think an adult touching them and saying suggestive things is okay?"

Soubi stopped himself from making a face. Touching? Did he mean the handshake? Seimei did have one of those pretty, androgynous faces that didn't look out of place on certain people at his age…and that sort of slim, graceful body. But he was what, thirteen or something?

"You're not my type." He said shortly.

"It's not about 'type'." Seimei replied disagreeably. "Victims are chosen based on accessibility and vulnerability."

Soubi was about to attempt a peace with a token "I'm–sorry-I-must-have-startled-you-cause-I'm-older-and-since-I've-already-lost-my-ears-you-must-have-been-nervous" until what Seimei said clicked in his head. Wait, did he just imply-?

"Just who the hell do you think you are?" Soubi snapped. "Ritsu picked you up from the streets, so it's not like you know shit about us or can do even the simplest things as a Sacrifice, but that didn't even make any sense! What the hell is your problem? I don't know where the hell you came from, but things are going to change, because my Sacrifice is NOT going to be a know-it-all, anal-retentive germ freak!"

Seimei had shrunk back against his door.

"I didn't mean anything by it." He said in a smaller, humbler voice and his face promptly dissolved into two rivers again.

"Oh for—" Soubi grumbled under his breath. But he took a seat next to Seimei. He was a full head and a half taller, even sitting down, it felt. Soubi wasn't done growing yet and it looked like Seimei hadn't even started.

Seimei's eyes still seemed rather far from drying. Soubi didn't want to wait for his tantrum to wrap itself up, but he didn't want to think what Ritsu would say or do to him if he left his Sacrifice without connecting with him.

So he did.

Seimei wasn't one of those silent criers so when Soubi go bored he kept himself busy by examining the completely unremarkable bathroom, relying on detecting the lack of Seimei's sobs to tell Soubi when he was done. That way they could get down to business and the little whiner could go home. They would deal with their stupid incompatibility some other time, which defied all stupid logic that was this stupid system, in which two people were supposedly so compatible they had to meet in order to fulfill their stupid destiny.

"You're not…you're not what I… you're a horrible Fighter yourself!"

Seimei brought Soubi out of his internal rant. Seimei had transitioned straightaway from crying into a comeback without pausing in between. But no, Soubi checked and he was still leaking. Hell, he was _multitasking_ at being a jerk.

"Excuse me?" Soubi returned, just a tad tightly. "I thought you've heard people say that I'm 'very strong'? They weren't lying. My battle strength is the greatest of any of the Fighters that Ritsu has found. I'm sure in time, once we've learned how to fight together, I'll be even stronger—"

"No! Who cares about that?"

"You did." Seimei pointed out patiently. "You said that's why you were happy to meet me."

"I…I was happy when I heard how strong you were…but…but…" Seimei's face twisted up sadly and turned away.

But you realized that was no reason to trust a stranger who said he'd find a partner for you to cast magic spells, Soubi finished for him silently.

"Anyways, it's no use." Seimei continued. "I don't care how strong you are. I don't want you as my Fighter if you don't know anything. Ritsu said you'd be different from everyone else, which was why I thought you'd be able to help me…because he said you'd know everything, that I'd even love you…but...but…you don't know anything."

It was obvious that Seimei was the one who didn't know anything, but Soubi was an adult already. He knew better things to say.

"So, why don't you tell me?" he prompted Seimei, not unkindly. At Seimei's swiveling back with a doubtful expression he added soothingly (with tones of his placid "Ritsu-trained" Fighter self), "I want to know, Aoyagi-kun. I want to help you. I'm your Fighter."

He actually wanted to get things moving already. If took a touchy emo spewing forth his woes about intimacy issues and his tendency to antagonize others, so be it.

Seimei tucked himself in a little tighter. "I don't know if I trust you, Agatsuma-san." He insisted most uncooperatively.

Soubi didn't even think about it. His finger coaxingly reached out as if to stroke Seimei's cheek. Before Seimei was even done flinching Soubi had changed course and had unstuck a curl stuck on the edge of Seimei's ear.

"Do you know how healing works, Seimei? A terrible secret can be a wound, and a terrible wound can be a secret. Both, if unnecessarily bothered by the one it was inflicted upon, can grow worse. Pain is good when you can learn from it. But I don't approve of pain that leads to stagnation, or even regression. Do you understand?"

Seimei kept his puffy pink eyes focused on his knuckles clasping his legs, but no matter how tense he was he was letting Soubi rearrange his hair as he wished.

Oh thank god something was finally working. Maybe Seimei wasn't as useless as he came off. At least he wasn't immune to the power of words overall.

"If selfishly harbor your pain for yourself, nothing will happen. You must give up your secret, put it in words, and get it out of you. Only then will something happen.

"Wh…what?"

"That is reality." Soubi pressed him. "That is humanity. And we are the best of all humanity at this. That is why Fighters and Sacrifices exist."

Seimei took a deep breath, deciding, and spoke:

"My mother hits me."

Soubi stared at him.

That was it?

"Adults are scum. They…they tell you they love you…and, and, they want you to come to them…but when you go to them, all they do is…bad things. No matter how many times you beg them to stop, they…they keep going. Yelling at you, hitting you, apologizing and saying they love you, and doing it all over again."

That was it? Some grand declaration. Was that enough to make someone act snotty and paranoid and hurl accusations because of innocent skin contact?

"So…you know not to let them come near you anymore. People…they're all wrong. If you don't know what's going on with your own family, how are you supposed to know anything about anyone else?"

Soubi knew exactly what to do. He curled his fingers around the bottom of his shirt and flipped it over his head and past his shoulders, exposing his bare torso.

Predictably, Seimei freaked.

"Wh-What? Oh god! Ah…ah…What are you—no! No, we're not—"

"Show me yours." Soubi requested over Seimei's incomprehensible gibbering.

"G-g…Nn…"

Seimei's gurgling was disregarded as Soubi pulled his shoulder in to make it clearer. Then Soubi stretched out, holding his hands far in front of him. He bent forward as much as he could while sitting, so Seimei could see the shiny puckered lines scored across his skin, from mid back and disappearing past the waistband of his underwear.

"W…what?"

"They're scars. From when I was whipped. Where are yours?"

"Mine go away… Was it your parents?"

"Ritsu-sensei. He's not my father, but he pays more attention to me than my parents."

Seimei buried his face in his hands again.

"Why?! Why did I come here thinking things were going to change? It's going to be exactly the same as my house!" he moaned. He gave a few more sniffles

Soubi patiently waited out Seimei's self-centered mourning. At this point he hadn't been expecting a facsimile of sympathy from the boy, but as he thought he had a strategy worked out, he didn't care.

"No, it's not. Ritsu only does that with me, he doesn't ever touch the others." Because he's got some kind of sick crush on me, Soubi added silently. "But doesn't this tell you something, Aoyagi-kun?"

"What?"

Soubi resisted saying something sarcastic about being able to live through abuse without getting all sorts of complexes about it, letting his life-long lessons in eloquence kick in instead.

"There's a reason we're Sacrifice and Fighter. We are the same." Very cautiously he leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. Seimei's hair was surprisingly soft, and his gaze surprisingly reverent. He was finally spellbound, thankfully.

"Though we go through the same pain, only I carry the markings of it on the outside. Only you carry the suffering on the inside. All Fighters and Sacrifices have something like this, you know. We've been waiting forever to know what it's like to be whole."

"And." Seimei replied, entranced, more a confirmation than a real question: "If that happens, what will change?"

Soubi closed his eyes and hoped that Seimei had been prompted to do the same. And that if things were going right this time around, Seimei would already know what to say.

"Then we will have decided. To join together our strengths, the ability to not allow others to hurt us. We won't let it mark our bodies . We won't let it wound our hearts. Because we will have each other's power. We will have each other. We will be Beloved." Soubi whispered.

"_I lack this power to purify,_

_Sanctify, nor suffice._

_Sacrifice._

_For I will assuage your cares,_

_Triumph as your Fighter."_

Soubi was sure it was Seimei who linked their fingers together.

"_I lack the will to thrive, _

_Flourish, for pride._

_Fighter._

_Be unto me a weapon,_

_Strong from the blood of my Sacrifice."_

It was Seimei who closed the space between their lips into a kiss.

"_Beloved, will you bless me with your fears?_

_We are tremors that hold the heart hostage. _

_We are Beloved," they said together. _

---

"Seimei."

Soubi and Seimei we're walking out of the bathroom together. Seimei was still teary and his head was bowed, but sounded happier.

"Pardon?" Soubi asked.

"Seimei. You can call me by my first name."

Soubi thanked him. Then he said: "But of course, that means you'll be calling be Soubi, too."

"Yes." Seimei scratched at his arm through his sleeve. Then he rolled up the material to look at it once again.

"Beloved," it said in small, faint letters on the inside of his upper arm. Seimei smiled faintly at it.

"Soubi, yours is…does it hurt? It's so…obvious."

Soubi's fingered the snake-like markings wound around his throat. When he had seen it in the bathroom mirror, he'd wondered why the hell the world was so unfair. Not only was his sacrifice incredibly hard to work with, Soubi also got the biggest, ugliest, most visible name in existence? But then he'd reconciled himself to the thought that bandages were pretty cool, and at least his neck would never be cold.

"I'm okay, Seimei. I just hope I can live up to this name and protect you."

"You will!" Seimei said fiercely. Betraying his phobia, he threw himself around Soubi and hugged him. Soubi's heart couldn't help warming up a little. Once Seimei started being more functional as a Sacrifice, Soubi had become more appreciative of his secondary charms.

When he let go, Soubi took him by his wrist—careful only to touch the cloth of his jacket sleeve, and letting Seimei's bare hand be. He was so much taller it wasn't really a bother.

"Soubi, you'll stay with me, right?"

"Of course. By the way, since we're a team now, is there anything else important you want me to know?"

"Oh!" Seimei brightened. "I have a little brother, Ritsuka. He's really cute…"

_A/N: Don't worry, I don't believe a word of this either. I guess how it really works is that they will learn from each other, until Soubi becomes a little more impulsive and emotionally sensitive, and Seimei will learn to keep a cool head and tongue no matter what his idiosyncrasies are. This was just me envisioning them as teenagers, being a little hysterical and immature before getting down to the serious business that is the plot of Loveless. _

_I have to admit, I think Seimei could have resembled Ritsuka at that age, seeing as they had the same family life…he might have been even worse, what with his paranoia. My guess is that he'll get creepy cool later on, if the scenario of this fic went on... It's also not my opinion that Seimei's mom hit him when he was younger. (I'm aware there are many families in which one child is singled out for abuse.) That's just the background to this fic. This is not related to the other Loveless fic I'm writing, which is serious, by the way. R+R _


End file.
